And before the blackbird ends its flight
Previously assumed, the suns and sky
Open fire upon the roses bloomed
Can indeed the redbird sing while blazing
Arrows soar? The trees and tresses
Lark around, confirmed forevermore.
Yet as the new night falls flat on face,
Perhaps the birds were wrong,
So pieces pick up the scattered song, and
Envelope what was apocalypse.
interpretation, comments, suggestions?
also wondering if you notice anything extra special about it, hardly anyone ever catches this in my poetry :)
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